[ Warren isn't about to remark one way or another whether he thinks he'll end up liking any of these dogs — there are so few things he genuinely likes, and even fewer of those are living things.

He rises to his full height, watching Ribeye trot off like he already owns the place. God, what has he gotten himself into? The things one does for power. (They're just dogs, Warren.) ]

I'd prefer that they keep away from my books. Otherwise, I don't mind if they get on the furniture, so long as nothing gets damaged.